Life is supposed to be lived and not to be understood. One lifetime falls short to understand or know a person completely, how do we understand the life itself which stands so ruthlessly huge in front of us? I have no fair intentions to understand Life either. I only keep making my judgements of it basis how it shapes up for me. Life and death always appeared to be two ends of the bridge. Little did I know that death goes hand in hand with life. Every time I felt the separation, something did die in me. Some forced separations while some consciously chosen. Either way, something in me always died, making me realise more of my existence as a depleting flesh around a Skelton. Like a one-way train journey, life does stop at some stations only to move ahead later. With each departure, hope to get back to that station again ends. It dies. We keep moving on, least we realize what has died within us when we leave forever the place where we stayed for a while. Least we realize that every new hope assures some dead hopes. Life and death can't be two different ends. They are what goes hand in hand.